A few nice nepali sex images I found:
Shelter Dancing
Image by The Emancipation Network
Survivors of sex trafficking and their children, dance in this Nepali shelter and now live the kind of lives all children deserve. These NGOs prove time and again that we should never give up, that with rescue and rehabilitation any horror can be overcome.
To learn more, visit The Emancipation Network at www.MadeBySurvivors.com
Siguiendo las Instrucciones de Virginia / Following Virginia's Instructions
Image by risaprofana
AcrÃlico sobre papel Nepali
Acrylic on Nepali handmade paper
Virginia Woolf en su ensayo "Profesiones para Mujeres"(1931) describe su lucha con un fantasma a quien ella denomina "el Angel de La Casa":
......"Mi [artÃculo] según creo recordar, era sobre una novela [escrita] por un hombre famoso. Y mientras estaba escribiendo esta reseña, descubrà que, si querÃa dedicarme a la crÃtica de libros, tendrÃa que librar una batalla con cierto fantasma. Y ese fantasma era una mujer, y, cuando conocà mejor a esta mujer, le di el nombre de la protagonista de una famosa poesÃa. "El Angel de la Casa"(1). Ella era quien solÃa obstaculizar mi trabajo, metiéndose entre el papel y yo, cuando escribÃa reseñas de libros. Ella era quien me estorbaba, quien me hacÃa perder el tiempo, quien de tal manera me atormentaba que al fin la maté.......La describiré con la mayor brevedad posible. Era intensamente comprensiva. Era intensamente encantadora. CarecÃa totalmente de egoÃsmo. Destacada en las difÃciles artes de la vida familiar. Se sacrificaba a diario. Si habÃa pollo para comer, se quedaba con el muslo; si habÃa una corriente de aire, se sentaba en medio de ella; en resumen, estaba constituida de tal manera que jamás tenÃa una opinión o un deseo propio, sino que preferÃa siempre adherirse a la opinión y al deseo de los demás. Huelga decir que sobre todo era pura. Se estimaba que su belleza constituÃa su principal belleza. Su mayor gracia eran sus rubores. En aquellos tiempos, los últimos de la reina Victoria, cada casa tenÃa su Angel. Y, cuando comencé a escribir, me tropecé con él, ya en las primeras palabras. Proyectó sobre la página la sombra de sus alas, oà el susurro de sus faldas en el cuarto. Es decir, en el mismo instante en que tomé la plumaen la mano para reseñar la novela escrita por un hombre famoso, el Angel se deslizó situándose a mi espalda, y murmuró: "Querida, eres una muchacha, escribes acerca de un libro escrito por un hombre. Sé comprensiva, sé tierna, halaga, engaña, emplea todas las artes y astucias de nuestro sexo. Jamás permitas que alguien sospeche que tienes ideas propias. Y, sobre todo, sé pura". Y el Angel intentó guiar mi pluma." "Me volvà hacia el Angel y le eché las manos al cuello. Hice cuanto pude para matarlo. Mi excusa, en el caso de que me llevaran ante los tribunales de justicia, serÃa la legitima defensa. Si no lo hubiera matado, él me hubiera matado a mÃ. Hubiera arrancado el corazón de mis escritos. SÃ, por cuanto, en el mismo momento en que puse la pluma sobre el papel, descubrà que ni siquiera la crÃtica de una novela se puede hacer, si tener opiniones propias, sin expresar lo que se cree de verdad, acerca de las relaciones humanas, de la moral y del sexo. Y, según el Angel de la Casa, las mujeres no pueden tratar libre y abiertamente esas cuestiones. Deben servirse del encanto, de la conciliación, deben, dicho sea lisa y llanamente, decir mentiras si quieren tener éxito. En consecuencia, siempre que me daba cuenta de la sobra de sus alas o de la luz de su aureola sobre el papel, cogÃa el tintero y lo arrojaba contra el Angel de la Casa. Tardó en morir. Su naturaleza ficticia lo ayudó en gran manera. Es mucho más difÃcil matar a un fantasma que matar una realidad. Siempre regresaba furtivamente, cuando yo imaginaba que ya lo habÃa liquidado. Pese a que me envanezco de que por fin lo maté, debo decir que la lucha fue ardua, duró mucho tiempo, tiempo que yo hubiera podido dedicar a aprender gramática griega, o a vagar por el mundo en busca de aventuras. Pero fue una verdadera experiencia, una experiencia que tuvieron que vivir todas las escritoras de aquellos tiempos.
Entonces, dar muerte al Angel de la Casa formaba parte del trabajo de las escritoras."
(1) El Angel en La Casa: una celebración en verso del amor matrimonial escrita por Coventry Patmore (1823-96), idealizando a la mujer en su rol doméstico.
Este extracto del ensayo traducido al español ha sido tomado de:
www.geocities.com/filosofialiteratura/AngelDeLaCasaVirgin...
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El ensayo completo y otras obras de Virginia Woolf (en inglés) estan disponibles en el Proyecto Gutenberg Australia en forma de texto eletrónico y pueden ser bajadas gratuitamente.
( gutenberg.net.au/pages/woolf.html ) obra completa
( gutenberg.net.au/plusfifty.html#woolf ) elegir "collected essays"
:: :: ::
In her essay "Professions for Women" (1931) Virginia Woolf describes her fight with a phantom she calls "the Angel in the House":
"Articles have to be about something. Mine, I seem to remember, was about a novel by a famous man. And while I was writing this review, I discovered that if I were going to review books I should need to do battle with a certain phantom. And the phantom was a woman, and when I came to know her better I called her after the heroine of a famous poem, The Angel in the House(1). It was she who used to come between me and my paper when I was writing reviews. It was she who bothered me and wasted my time and so tormented me that at last I killed her. You who come of a younger and happier generation may not have heard of her--you may not know what I mean by the Angel in the House. I will describe her as shortly as I can. She was intensely sympathetic. She was immensely charming. She was utterly unselfish. She excelled in the difficult arts of family life. She sacrificed herself daily. If there was chicken, she took the leg; if there was a draught she sat in it--in short she was so constituted that she never had a mind or a wish of her own, but preferred to sympathize always with the minds and wishes of others. Above all--I need not say it---she was pure. Her purity was supposed to be her chief beauty--her blushes, her great grace. In those days--the last of Queen Victoria--every house had its Angel. And when I came to write I encountered her with the very first words. The shadow of her wings fell on my page; I heard the rustling of her skirts in the room. Directly, that is to say, I took my pen in my hand to review that novel by a famous man, she slipped behind me and whispered: "My dear, you are a young woman. You are writing about a book that has been written by a man. Be sympathetic; be tender; flatter; deceive; use all the arts and wiles of our sex. Never let anybody guess that you have a mind of your own. Above all, be pure." And she made as if to guide my pen. I now record the one act for which I take some credit to myself, though the credit rightly belongs to some excellent ancestors of mine who left me a certain sum of money--shall we say five hundred pounds a year?--so that it was not necessary for me to depend solely on charm for my living. I turned upon her and caught her by the throat. I did my best to kill her. My excuse, if I were to be had up in a court of law, would be that I acted in self-defence. Had I not killed her she would have killed me. She would have plucked the heart out of my writing. For, as I found, directly I put pen to paper, you cannot review even a novel without having a mind of your own, without expressing what you think to be the truth about human relations, morality, sex. And all these questions, according to the Angel of the House, cannot be dealt with freely and openly by women; they must charm, they must conciliate, they must--to put it bluntly--tell lies if they are to succeed. Thus, whenever I felt the shadow of her wing or the radiance of her halo upon my page, I took up the inkpot and flung it at her. She died hard. Her fictitious nature was of great assistance to her. It is far harder to kill a phantom than a reality. She was always creeping back when I thought I had despatched her. Though I flatter myself that I killed her in the end, the struggle was severe; it took much time that had better have been spent upon learning Greek grammar; or in roaming the world in search of adventures. But it was a real experience; it was an experience that was bound to befall all women writers at that time. Killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation of a woman writer."
(1) The Angel in the House: a verse celebration of married love by Coventry Patmore (1823-96), idealizing women in the domestic role.
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You can find this essay and other writings by Virginia Woolf as e-text, in Proyect Gutenberg Australia .
( gutenberg.net.au/pages/woolf.html ) collected works
( gutenberg.net.au/plusfifty.html#woolf ) choose "collected essays"
Lord Shiva
Image by rexdude
A Nepali style sculpture of Shiva - in an intimate position with Parvati, his consort.
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